


Satchmo's Thanksgiving

by rabidchild67



Series: The Satchmo Cycle [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Dog(s), Fluff, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 12:11:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Satchmo loves the holidays for one reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satchmo's Thanksgiving

Satchmo loves the holidays. He loves the smells that come from the kitchen, and he loves the crackle-crackle-crackle in the fireplace, and he loves that Honey and Sweetie spend more time with him at home. But mostly Satchmo loves the holidays for one reason: babies.

Babies are made mostly of smells, and this intrigues Satchmo. They are also fun to play with because they roll around with him, and they are always dropping food on the floor. Every year, Satchmo can’t wait for the babies to come.

“Honey, of course we have to do Thanksgiving this year, it’s our tradition!” Sweetie said one day. “My sister Meg is bringing the kids, and your Mom even said she’d come down this year.”

Honey growled in his throat, which made Satchmo lift his head. “Those damn kids drive me crazy, Sweetie. Can’t we just go skiing in Vermont this year?”

Satchmo whined a little – he didn’t want to go away for Thanksgiving. He liked when the babies came. “See, even the dog wants to go away, don’t you, Satch?” Honey said, and scratched Satchmo behind the ears.

 _No, Honey,_ Satchmo thought, _I want to see the babies_.

As usual, Sweetie prevailed.

On Thanksgiving morning, Satchmo sat in front of the door, looking out at the street, waiting for the people. Mr. Neal was the first to arrive, carrying a stack of bakery boxes that smelled like spices and apples and every good thing. “Pies from The Greatest Cake,” Mr. Neal announced, handing the boxes to Sweetie and kissing her on the cheek.

She took the boxes away and Mr. Neal reached into his pocket and pulled out a dog biscuit. Satchmo wagged and sat and wagged some more, and Mr. Neal tossed the biscuit into the air for him to catch. Satchmo likes Mr. Neal because he takes him swimming and because he makes Honey and Sweetie smile.

In a little while, Honey’s Mama comes and Satchmo wags hello but doesn’t jump on her because she doesn’t approve. He knows he should give Honey’s Mama a chance to pet him but he doesn’t. He is distracted - when will the babies come? When? He returns to the door to wait.

Soon enough, Satchmo is rewarded and MySisterMeg arrives with the babies. They are larger than last time, but they still smell good and one of them has sticky red stuff all over its face. Satchmo licks and licks and the baby laughs. Then Satchmo sticks his nose under the baby’s tail to get a good sniff, but he is maybe too excited and the baby falls over. Satchmo runs for it as MySisterMeg yells.

There is a lull before dinner when the People are gathered in the living room, talking. Satchmo sits in front of a baby and stares at him. The baby has a cookie; he holds the cookie out and Satchmo nibbles and nibbles at the parts of the cookie he can get. The baby puts the rest into his own mouth.

Satchmo licks his lips and looks at the baby. _There’s more in the kitchen,_ Satchmo thinks at him.

The baby stares back at him. “Doggy?” he says.

Satchmo whines a little and marches his feet. _Kitchen_.

The baby looks at the kitchen door and then pushes himself to his feet. “Doggy!” he says and toddles over to the kitchen door. Satchmo follows, tail wagging. He follows the baby into the kitchen. The door hits him on the butt as he squeezes through, but he doesn’t mind. The kitchen is filled with many good things.

“Um, El?” Mr. Neal calls, surprising Satchmo. Mr. Neal is leaning against the now-open kitchen door and grinning.

Sweetie walks over to the door and sees Satchmo with his face in the bowl of sausage stuffing, tail wagging furiously. “Satchmo!” she shouts, and hauls him away by his collar. The bowl clatters to the floor, and Satchmo scrambles away. He sits in the corner with a guilty expression, because he is supposed to. He licks his lips and looks at the baby, whose fists are full of cherry pie.  

They both look up at Sweetie, who looks very angry, but Satchmo thinks she is also smiling. He can’t be sure.

“Partners in crime,” Mr. Neal comments with a laugh and scratches Satchmo under the chin before picking up a dustpan to clean up the mess.

“Don’t give them any more ideas.”

Satchmo burps. He loves the holidays when the babies come to visit.

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Thank you for your time.


End file.
